


Lacking Biscuits and Perspective

by yaakov



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaakov/pseuds/yaakov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape, forced to house Wormtail at Spinner's End, decides to give his reluctant guest some verbal abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacking Biscuits and Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, “A villain is just a victim whose story hasn't been told yet.”

Severus Snape sat alone in blessed silence. An intricate book freshly opened, a yellow, flickering lamp, and a glass of elf-made wine had almost melted his misery into comfort. Knowledge of his unwanted guest still lingered at the corner of his mind, but he took another sip of deep red wine and ignored it.

A rustling in the hidden staircase pricked his ears. The rustling grew into a restless crinkling, and Severus closed his book. He marveled that a man could sound so much like a rodent even out of his Animagus form.

"I can hear you, Wormtail."

The door swung open, and a short, dumpy man trudged out, blowing a blustery sigh through his lips.

"I was hoping you were out," said Wormtail flatly.

"This is my home, Wormtail," Severus evenly explained. "Where else would I be?"

He stared as the other man fidgeted, crumpling some plastic packaging in his hands and staring down at his small feet.

"I — I don't know,” he answered. “I've finished these biscuits, so do you mind if I...?" He jerked his head toward the kitchen, and Severus simply stared.

"Your nerve is astounding."

With a ragged sigh, Wormtail disappeared into the kitchen.

"It's not my fault," he complained, audibly fumbling with the wastebin. "I can't exactly leave and buy my own food, right? And..." He reappeared in the doorway, his pasty cheeks tinged with pink. "I can't exactly get a job either. I'm supposed to be dead, remember?"

The wine in Severus's glass caught the light and glowed ruby.

"And you're out of biscuits, by the way," Wormtail muttered.

"Come," Severus beckoned. Lifting his wand, he summoned another wine glass and gently set it onto the tiny table before him. With his own hands, he reached for the bottle and poured a glass, Wormtail watching closely all the while.

"You're trying to poison me," Wormtail blurted, his pointy nose quivering.

"I don't think the Dark Lord would like that very much. Do you? Come, have a seat."

Wormtail scurried into the nearest seat, as if he was afraid the welcome would quickly evaporate.

"Is this really for me?" he asked tentatively.

Severus raised an eyebrow, and Wormtail swiftly snatched the glass. He took an embarrassingly large gulp and winced.

"Oh, god!" he breathed, briefly closing his eyes. "Wine! I never liked it much, but this is fantastic." 

He drained the glass in two sips, and Severus poured him another.

"I invited you into my sitting room, Wormtail, because I wanted to have a little chat."

Wormtail almost choked in mid-sip. "Um," he mumbled, wiping his lips.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind…um, you never called me 'Wormtail' in school," he said in a rush, "so could you please just call me 'Pettigrew?'"

Severus considered him for a moment and said nothing.

"I wanted to have a little chat," he went on, "about how you should consider your situation."

Wormtail quivered and sipped his wine to cover his nerves.

"Certainly you realize that it _is_ your fault." 

The small man blinked, confused at the source of this sudden insult, and Severus continued.

"Everything that troubles you, or makes your life miserable, is a direct result of your actions. Nobody forced you to fake your death, or to arrange your friends' murders or sentences to Azkaban. In fact," Severus quietly sneered, "no one forced you to serve the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord wants loyal followers, not terrified scum."

Severus spat his last words like venom, and Wormtail recoiled. 

"You've arranged your current life," Severus hissed, "and even you must wonder whether it is preferable to death."

Wormtail blinked furiously, squirming in his seat like a rat trying to escape its own skin. By human impulse, one nearly forgotten, he emptied the wine glass again before leaping to his feet.

"You're awful!" he gasped. "You can't understand my situation, and you've always been a miserable bastard besides. I was happy once, you know," Wormtail shrilly noted. "I _had_ friends, which is more than we can say for you."

"No," said Severus softly. "You're not a complicated man, Wormtail. I believe I understand quite well. You're also not very intelligent, so I doubt your conclusions about me are remotely accurate."

“I don’t have to take this abuse,” Wormtail muttered, stomping back to the stairs. “Can’t even chat like a normal human, can he?”

The bookcase door slammed shut, sending a couple of hardbounds thumping onto the floor. Severus closed his eyes, seething, as snatches of Wormtail’s solitary complaints reached his ears.

“…slimeball...bastard…no fucking biscuits…!”

After a long, steady sigh, Severus opened his book again. He took a sip of his own wine, but its flavor now seemed tasteless and dry. A silent clock struck eight, and he watched its twitching hands impassively, greeting yet another joyless evening that stretched before him.


End file.
